


Links in the Chain

by Mireille



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Post-Gauda Prime, Zine, Zine: Southern Seven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1995-05-29
Updated: 1995-05-29
Packaged: 2019-03-12 02:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13537677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: After Gauda Prime, the remnants of the Scorpio crew just want to be left alone.





	Links in the Chain

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story in a proposed trilogy (only the second story has been written, and I have not yet digitized it). Features major-character death, both on- and off-screen. 
> 
> The original version of this story appeared in SOUTHERN SEVEN #10 (May 1995).

It was over. Vila still couldn't believe they'd escaped. He kept expecting to wake up on Blake's base, or in a Federation cell. But it had been a month, and he hadn't yet; they really had got away. 

Most of them, anyway. That Federation spy's gun hadn't been loaded with stun-charges. Dayna had bled to death on the floor, and there'd been nothing he could do about it. 

And Blake, of course...but Vila was trying hard not to think about Blake, because that would mean he'd have to think about Avon. 

Vila shuddered and glanced over his shoulder to make sure Avon was still on the flight deck of the planet-hopper they'd commandeered. As usual, Avon was talking to Orac, so softly that even Vila, his hearing trained by years of safecracking, couldn't hear what he was saying. 

Tarrant, like Avon, was off watch; he'd gone to one of the cabins to get some sleep. This ship was somewhat larger than _Scorpio_ ; there were two cabins that were also left pressurized in flight, so they could live on the ship. If you called it living. 

Soolin was staying near Avon, her hand resting unobtrusively on her gun. She'd been watching Avon since they'd got off Gauda Prime. That was fine by Vila. He didn't even mind having to keep an eye on all the ship's systems by himself, as long as he knew that Soolin was watching Avon. And when Soolin and Vila were off-watch, Tarrant would notice if Avon left the flight deck. Vila could almost feel safe. 

Almost. He'd learned the hard way that no one was safe around Avon. 

Tarrant walked in then, an hour early for his watch. It would be simpler to take things in six-hour shifts, but none of them trusted one another enough to leave one person in charge, alone, on the flight deck. 

No, that wasn't true. Vila would have trusted Soolin or Tarrant. They wouldn't let him down, not if it really mattered. But none of them trusted Avon anymore. That was why they all--even Vila, who had never liked guns, and who positively hated them these days--went everywhere armed. Just in case. 

"Anything interesting going on?" Tarrant asked, sitting down at the pilot's console. One of the annoying things about Tarrant--one of the many annoying things about Tarrant, in Vila's opinion--was that he woke up in a good mood. 

He shrugged. "We're out in the middle of nowhere, going nowhere, doing nothing. If you find that interesting, you're either crazy or just plain stupid."

"Why are we going nowhere?" asked Tarrant. 

"Nobody told me where we were supposed to be going, the flight computer's an obsolete pile of junk that either can't or won't talk to me, Orac's busy, and I'm not a pilot. Any more questions?"

Tarrant turned around to look at Avon. "Where are we going?" he asked, giving the older man a cold glare. 

The effect was spoiled by the fact that Avon had his back to him and, in fact, didn't even seem to have heard. 

"Let's just stay out here for a while longer," Vila suggested. "Where it's safe. They might still be looking for us."

Soolin spoke up then. "Why, Vila? Orac planted records of our deaths in the Federation computers. No one knew we were on Gauda Prime but a few of Blake's rebels and those troopers, and they're all dead. Blake's rebels had overpowered the Federation troops, and in the confusion, the survivors of the _Scorpio_ crew had been able to escape. Not before time, as it happened; when the troops failed to report in, their ship had bombed the base. "We're safe," Soolin continued. She paused for a moment, and Vila thought he saw her glance at Avon. "Safe as we're ever going to be, anyway."

"Vila's right," Tarrant said. 

"It's about time you noticed."

"There's no point heading back into Federation space before we have to--either when we run out of supplies, or when we work out our next move. If we're just going to drift, it's better that we drift out here where we're not likely to be discovered."

"I see your point," Soolin admitted. "All right, then, it's agreed? Avon?"

Avon finally turned around. "What?"

"We're going to stay out here until we decide what to do next," Soolin repeated. "All right with you?"

"It doesn't matter." He turned back to Orac. 

Vila set about trying to ignore him. Avon had been behaving strangely for a long time, but he'd been worse since Gauda Prime. Most of the time, he didn't pay much attention to his surroundings. Vila would have been willing to bet that Avon spent his days reliving Gauda Prime--staring down at Blake's bloody corpse. 

Not that he felt sorry for Avon, not in the least. Avon had brought all this on himself. He deserved every bit of it, and more. But sometimes, Vila missed him, just a little. 

Tarrant got something to eat from the food dispenser and sat back down. The food was rotten on this ship--which they hadn't bothered to name yet--almost as bad as when they'd first been on board _Liberator_ , before Avon had had time to reprogram the food dispenser. This stuff wasn't poisonous, and it was definitely intended for humans to eat--but it was bland and disgusting, just the same. Avon probably could have fixed it, but Avon didn't care. 

Vila stared at the readouts until his vision blurred. Anything to stop thinking about Avon, about Blake, about _Liberator_ , about how miserable life was, and how short it was likely to be. 

He was unaware of how much time had passed until Tarrant tapped him on the shoulder. "My watch," he said. "Go get some sleep."

Vila stood and stretched cramped muscles. "Hear that, Soolin?"

"I heard. Good thing, too; I was about to fall asleep." She yawned. "Time to get to work, Avon," she called. 

"Leave him," Tarrant muttered. "He's not much help anyway."

"Suit yourself. It's not me who'll have to do all the work without him," she said. She and Vila left the flight deck, stepping into the short corridor that led to the sleeping cabins and the cargo hold. 

"Care for a little recreation before your rest?" Vila offered, grinning at her. She never took the offer seriously, but it had become a habit. Besides, she just might say yes one day. 

"Oh, give up, Vila," she said, but she grinned when she said it. She stopped in front of the first cabin, the one she and Avon took turns using when they weren't on the flight deck. "See you in a few hours," she said as the door closed behind her. 

Vila paused in front of his own cabin. He'd left his jacket on the flight deck. It'd still be there later, but he'd wanted to run it through the cleaning unit while he slept. He sighed and turned around. 

When he reached the doorway to the flight deck, he paused. Avon was walking toward Tarrant, his blaster drawn. 

"Tarrant?" Avon said. 

_Vila? I need your help, Vila...._

Tarrant turned around. Vila wanted to shout a warning, but his vocal cords seemed paralyzed.

"No, don't go for your gun," Avon told him. "You'll be dead before you reach it."

Tarrant stayed very still. "Why are you doing this, Avon?"

"I've been talking to Orac."

_*Vila weighs seventy-three kilos.* No, it's not Orac's fault. Orac never made Avon draw the gun. Orac can't make anyone do anything; it was Avon...._

"And what has Orac been saying?" Tarrant's voice was casual--not the flat, deceptive calm of Avon's voice, but the forced calm of a man trying to humor a lunatic.

Which was, after all, what Tarrant was doing. 

"Blake wasn't really a bounty hunter," Avon continued. "As he said, he was waiting for us. To help him fight the Federation."

"I couldn't have known that."

"You told me he sold us. You made me kill him."

Vila didn't know what in Avon's stance or tone told him that Avon was about to fire, but he drew his own gun and aimed. Neither man had seen him; their attention was focused on one another. 

"You made me kill Blake."

The two shots were fired almost simultaneously--almost. Somehow, miraculously, Vila managed to fire first. Avon's shot went wild, hitting the food dispenser instead of Tarrant. 

Vila's shot had been good, for once; panic must have improved his aim. Avon collapsed to the deck.

He couldn't have said how long he stood there, staring at Avon. _I shot Avon. He was going to kill Tarrant, but I shot him._

Soolin must have heard the gunfire, because suddenly she was pushing past Vila onto the flight deck. She knelt beside Avon, feeling for a pulse. "Dead," she pronounced. Then she looked at Tarrant, who had sunk back down into his chair, pale and shaken. "What happened?"

"He was going to kill me," Tarrant said, sounding amazed. "Orac told him Blake hadn't betrayed us--he blamed me because he shot Blake."

Soolin took in the smoldering remains of the dispenser unit. "You were lucky you fired first," she said. "At this range, you wouldn't have had a chance."

"But I didn't fire first," he said. "I didn't fire at all."

She looked again at Avon's body. "No, the angle's all wrong. Which means--Vila?"

Vila nodded. "I killed him," he said quietly. "I killed Avon, Soolin."

She was by his side in an instant. "It's all over, Vila," she said, with surprising gentleness. "You can put the gun down."

He let her take the weapon from nerveless fingers. "Avon," he mumbled. 

"Everything's all right," she soothed, steering him to a chair. 

"You saved my life," Tarrant said. "I owe you one."

Nothing seemed quite real to Vila. That Avon had finally gone mad was obvious, but it didn't change the fact that Vila had killed him. 

"You did the right thing," Soolin said. 

"Did I?" _I killed Avon... he tried to kill me but he didn't, but I killed him... he was going to kill Tarrant, so I killed him... and I never even liked Tarrant anyway...._ Vila was aware that he wasn't thinking rationally, but he didn't care. He couldn't stop seeing Avon fall to the flight deck.... _Is this what Avon felt like, after he killed Blake? I had to kill Avon, and he didn't have to kill Blake, but still... I murdered Avon. No way to make it sound good. Avon's dead, and it's my fault._

He vaguely noticed Tarrant leaving the flight deck. The whole thing must have been a shock to him, as well. Only Soolin remained cool and unsurprised. She was still standing next to Vila, telling him over and over again that it was going to be fine, that he did the right thing. He'd never thought of Soolin being comforting, but she was trying her best. 

He reached up and gripped her hand. She winced. "Not so tight, Vila, I do have bones in there." He relaxed his death-grip only slightly. 

She must have realized that Vila was staring at Avon's body, because she turned the chair around so that he could no longer see it. "Tarrant and I will take care of him in a few minutes," she said. 

He nodded. Tarrant reappeared then, bearing Vila's single bottle of soma, discovered in one of the crew lockers when they'd first come on board. He'd been saving it for an emergency; well, he supposed this qualified. 

He opened the bottle and handed it to Vila. "Go on. You look as though you need a drink." 

Vila took it and drank. It didn't help much, but it did dull the edges on his keening nerves. He handed the soma back to Tarrant. "Your turn."

As Tarrant raised the bottle, Vila noticed that his hand was shaking. _Something finally scared Tarrant,_ he thought. _Too bad I can't enjoy it._

Soolin leaned over and said something to Tarrant. Vila caught the words "star-orbit burial" and promptly stopped listening. He really didn't want to know. 

Tarrant sat down at the pilot's controls again and entered coordinates. "It'll take about half an hour," he said. "Help me get him down to the airlock."

The airlock. The familiar knot appeared in Vila's stomach. _It's all right_ , he told himself. _It's not you this time. It's Avon._

Soon, he was alone. He didn't want to be alone, but it did have one small benefit: they had taken Avon with them. He didn't have to look at Avon's body anymore. But it was still there, when he closed his eyes....

He realized he was crying. Stupid, when he thought about it. Avon hadn't been a friend of Vila's for a very long time. But Vila had thought of him that way once, and he was going to miss him. Had been missing him for a long time already, ever since Terminal, when Avon had gone down into the ruined base the man Vila had known for three years, and had emerged a bleak-eyed stranger. 

After a while, the others came back, and Tarrant set new coordinates. 

"Where are we going?" asked Soolin.

"Nowhere in particular. Do you have somewhere in mind?" 

Soolin looked over at Vila. He was still sitting in the flight chair, shoulders hunched in what Dayna had once called Vila's "please-don't-notice-me" pose, tears streaming down an otherwise expressionless face. "I think we might need to get away from it all, Tarrant. Do you think you can arrange that?"

He followed her gaze. "You know, now that you mention it, I could do with a holiday. Ask Orac for someplace likely, and I'll have us there as soon as I can...which in this rust-bucket, might be a few centuries."

As Soolin passed by Vila, she rested one hand briefly on his shoulder. Soolin so rarely showed him any kindness whatsoever; he didn't want to drive her away. Especially now that Avon was dead. 

Despite everything that had happened, Vila had found it hard to believe that he couldn't trust Avon. It had taken Avon trying to shove him out that airlock to finally get it through his skull. _Stupid Delta, just like Avon and Tarrant always said. Well, at least one of them won't be saying it again... and Tarrant can hardly call me useless now that I've just saved his life. So things are looking up, I suppose._ He picked up the soma bottle again. _Yeah. They've gone from "so bad you're better off dead" to "terrible, but at least you're not dead." Some improvement._

Tarrant had been talking to him for a while, he realized. "Hm? Sorry, Tarrant, my mind was wandering."

If it had been Avon, he'd have gotten a sharp comment in reply. But it wasn't Avon--and it never would be again, he remembered. 

Tarrant only repeated what he'd said. "I asked if you felt like a holiday." 

He shrugged. "Why not? What else do we have to do?"

"What, no extravagant demands for a trip to a pleasure planet, complete with your own personal harem?" Soolin teased. 

"What would be the point? Never get what I want, anyway."

"What do you want?" she asked. 

"Things to be like they used to be."

"Oh, come on, Vila, they weren't that much better," Soolin said. 

"I don't mean recently. I mean a long time ago, when Blake--when we were with Blake."

"And Blake made everything all right? Not even you can be that naïve," Tarrant said. 

"No, Blake didn't make everything all right. But Avon was different. Easier to get along with. Did I ever tell you about the time we broke the bank at Freedom City?"

Soolin shook her head. It seemed she was going to humor Vila today; usually, she cut her stories off with a sarcastic remark. 

Vila wasn't one to overlook an opening. He launched into the story, embellishing it heavily where he thought it lacked style. As he finished, he noticed that his audience was smiling in spite of themselves. "Never would have thought he had it in him," Tarrant said. "That would have been something to see." 

"It was." Vila lapsed into silence again. Not that it'd been as fun as he'd made it sound, but still, telling the story had only reminded him of how much he had been missing that Avon; the Avon without any obsessions driving him. He got to his feet; shock had left his legs, none too steady, but he managed. "I’m going to get some rest," he muttered. 

"If you need anything--"

That solicitous tone again. What was this--his reward for ridding the ship of Avon? He needed to be alone, to think, to sort things out. _Is this how you felt, Avon, when we came to "see how you were" after Anna died? When I tried to get you to talk about Cally? Is this why you shoved us away?_ "For starters," he said, guilt and grief adding razor edges to his words, "you could quit being so damned nice to me. We all know you don't mean it." 

"Now see here, Vila--" Tarrant began, starting to get up. 

Soolin glared at him, and he sat back down. "Leave it," she snapped. "Just leave him alone."

"That's right. Just leave me alone, both of you." Vila went to his cabin and lay down on the single bunk. Back on _Liberator_ , Blake used to joke that Vila could fall asleep anywhere, any time, in fifteen seconds or less. Right now, Vila wished it were true. 

He spent the rest of the shift staring at the ceiling of the cabin, trying not to think. He didn't succeed, but at least the effort of blanking his mind gave him something else to think about. 

***

Orac had managed to find a neutral, sparsely-inhabited planet that was only a day's travel from their current location, and Tarrant landed the ship about two hours' walk from what appeared to be a major city. The three remaining survivors of the _Scorpio_ stepped out, blinking in the bright sunlight. Their eyes were accustomed to the artificial light of the ship, and only Soolin had ever been used to natural light to begin with > Vila and Tarrant, Earth-born and dome-raised, were never quite comfortable out in the open. 

Still, it was pretty, Vila admitted. They were in the middle of what appeared to be a meadow, with a forest an easy walk away. Soolin set out for it immediately. Vila remembered there'd been a lot of trees on Gauda Prime, and figured she was feeling a little homesick. Not that he thought she had any good memories of home, but Vila missed the domes occasionally, and he didn't have any good memories of those, either. 

He had precious few of Avon, and Vila missed him, too. That was what they were on this planet for: to recover a bit after the strain of the past twenty-four hours or so. Tarrant and Soolin didn't say as much, but he knew it was true. All of them needed some time to collect their thoughts before they could decide on their next move. 

"Feel like a walk, Vila?" Tarrant asked. 

"What for?"

"Well, a few miles down that road--" he pointed in the appropriate direction, "--is a city. I thought we could take a look at it. It's a pre-space flight culture, but they've progressed enough to be interesting." He grinned. "Night-life, Vila...."

Vila grinned back, though he didn't feel particularly happy. But Tarrant was being nice, and he could almost get to like Tarrant when he was being nice. And it would be better than moping around near the ship, especially if Tarrant went off without him. "Why not?"

They walked in silence most of the time. Tarrant tried to strike up a conversation a few times, but Vila had answered in monosyllables. He was aware of the concerned looks Tarrant was giving him every time he failed to launch into a stream of complaints about the pace Tarrant was setting, the weather, the condition of the road, and life in general, but he just didn't have the energy. 

It was too wearing, trying not to think about Avon. The prospect of a trip into the city with Tarrant had reminded him of his and Avon's trip down to Freedom City. Now that had been fun...except for the parts where he was scared half to death. 

He couldn't imagine Tarrant trying to bust the Big Wheel. He'd probably have wanted to stay on the ship, since Blake had told them to. Tarrant was big on obeying authority--as long as he decided to accept the authority, at least. He'd never completely accepted Avon's, but Vila figured he'd have accepted Blake's and expected the others to do likewise. 

No, Tarrant wasn't going to be much fun. It was a pity Avon was dead-- _that I killed him,_ , that voice in his head reminded him. He wished it'd just shut up. He knew he'd killed Avon. He'd never be able to forget killing Avon, short of being lobotomized completely. But there was nothing else he could have done, and no one would blame him. Except himself. 

With such cheerful thoughts to occupy his mind, the time passed fairly quickly, and they made good time on the road. It didn't seem to be too long before they could see the city ahead of them. 

Vila had seen a lot of cities in his time, from New London Dome on Earth to Freedom City to the capital on Auron, and he had to say that, of all the cities he had ever visited, this one--he couldn't remember its name--was probably the least impressive. It was obviously not built by people with any knowledge of advanced technology. The people who lived in this world might not have lived in caves and hunted with spears, but they obviously hadn't discovered electricity yet. 

"Orac didn't tell me they were this backward," Tarrant muttered. "Still, I suppose they've figured out how to brew beer?" 

"I hope so," Vila replied. "We've walked too far to turn around now."

The last quarter-mile seemed to stretch out before them, now that their destination didn't seem so inviting. Before too much longer, though, they had arrived at the city gate, to be met by a bored-looking guard. 

"Names?" he asked. 

Neither of them bothered to lie; who'd be looking for them in this godforsaken hole? The guard took down the names without interest. "Business?"

"We're traveling entertainers," Vila lied smoothly. 

"What sort?" the young man asked, showing his first flicker of interest. 

"I do a conjuring act," he explained. "Got a coin on you?" At the guard's frown, he added, "You'll get it back, I promise."

"Vila, do you think this is a good--"

"Shut up, Tarrant," Vila hissed. "I know what I'm doing."

The guard handed over a small coppery coin. Vila made a few theatrical passes over the coin before making it disappear. Tarrant didn't react; he'd seen Vila do the same thing before. 

The young guard, however, was entranced. "How'd you do that?" 

"The hand is quicker than the eye," Vila replied. "Watch closely." And, with a decided flourish, he pulled the coin from behind the guard's ear. _What a planet,_ he thought. _Good thing this kids' stuff is going over well; I'm out of practice._

"So that's your act?"

"Among other things. Now, can we pass?"

The gate swung open. "Sure. The checkpoint's mostly a formality. Lord Sharl's a bit nervous--he's got some visitors from one of the outer lands, and he wants nothing to go wrong." 

Local politics being unimportant to Vila and Tarrant, they simply thanked the guard and went on their way.

"Where to first?" Tarrant asked. 

"I want something to drink," Vila said. For once, he didn't care if it was alcoholic or not; he was just thirsty. He wouldn't mind getting drunk, but he didn't know if there was enough alcohol on the planet to make him forget all the things he wanted to. 

"Let's go a little farther in," Tarrant said. "When I was in Space Command, we used to use planets like this for shore leave, and the establishments near the city gates make their profit by cheating travelers who're too tired to go any farther."

"All right." Vila was content to let Tarrant lead. He'd never liked being in charge, and right now, he didn't want to make any decisions. He'd made one lately, and he wasn't altogether pleased with the results.

They were in a very respectable-looking business district--tailors, butchers, and other legitimate businesses catering to the solid citizen--when they heard a crowd cheering a few streets away. "What's going on?" Vila asked. 

"Maybe those visitors the soldier at the gate was telling us about. No matter," Tarrant said. "I'm not that interested in seeing visiting royalty, or whatever."

Vila's eyes had lit up. "There's bound to be a lot of people there," he said. 

"So?"

"So think about it, Tarrant. A lot of people, with their attention focused elsewhere. A pickpocket's paradise."

"Vila, I don't think--"

"I know you don't. That coin I got from the guard isn't going to buy much, and I doubt they'll take Federation credits here. We need some spending money."

"Are you up to it? You haven't been practicing."

Vila grinned at him. "Haven't I?" He held up Tarrant's blaster. "Didn't even know it was gone, did you?"

"You've been stealing from us for practice?"

"I always put the stuff back. And if it'll ease your conscience, I'll put a few credits in their pockets. They can save them for when the Federation comes to call." He shrugged. "Come on, Tarrant. You know I'm right; just admit it and let's get going. I'm tired of wandering around."

"It sounds like the crowd's in that direction," Tarrant said, gesturing off toward their right. "Let's get on with it." 

They cut through a narrow alley and found themselves at the back of a crowd. Vila couldn't quite see past the mass of people, but Tarrant peered over them, trying to see what had so drawn their attention.

Vila ignored him and got to work. He'd lifted a couple of purses and a few pieces of jewelry that, if they didn't get around to selling them, he figured Soolin might like, before Tarrant grabbed his arm. "We've got to get out of here, Vila."

"Eh? Did the guards--"

"Just get moving!" Tarrant snapped. "Quietly. Don't draw any attention to us. And go farther up the street, in the opposite direction from the parade. We can't risk her seeing us."

"Her?" Vila asked. 

"Servalan," he whispered. "Now hurry!"

_Servalan? Here? Tarrant, you're insane. I never figured you as the type to lose your mind... but I never figured Avon that way, either, so I guess I’m not the best judge of these things._ Vila saw a gap in the crowd and seized the opportunity to get closer to the roadway. 

He could just see the processional, which was moving very slowly to give the multitudes sufficient time to gawk at their lord's foreign guests. _Wonder if they know how foreign_ , Vila thought. For Tarrant was right; he could see a face through the windows of the most elaborate coach, and it was a face he wasn't likely to forget any time soon: pale, golden-eyed, and lovely, crowned by brutally-short dark hair. "Servalan," he murmured, before pushing back through the crowd to rejoin Tarrant. 

"You're right," he said, barely pausing to see if Tarrant had heard him. They managed to get a few yards up the street before ducking into another alleyway. 

"Do you think anyone saw us?" he asked. 

"Several hundred people--but I don't think Servalan or any of the troopers with her did."

"We've got to get Soolin and get out of here," Vila said. "We're no threat to her now, but I bet Servalan doesn't care about that. We know who she is, and that's enough threat in her mind. Even if I'd be happy enough to forget all about her and be left the hell alone."

"Agreed." They retraced their steps and found themselves again at the gate. 

"Leaving so soon?" the guard asked. 

"Couldn't find work," Vila explained quickly. "Not many people here with your appreciation for the fine arts."

"Too bad," the young man said as he let them out. 

Vila and Tarrant made themselves walk slowly until they were out of sight, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. As soon as they were over the hill that they remembered had blocked their view of the city on the way there, they broke into a run.

Vila hated running; he hated anything that resembled work. But he didn't utter one word of complaint all the way back to the ship. 

Soolin had gotten tired of the forest; she was sitting under a tree near the ship, cleaning her gun. 

"We've got to leave," Tarrant called. 

She was on her feet immediately, shoving the clip back in her blaster. "Trouble?"

"Yes," Tarrant said, opening the hatchway. 

"All right, Vila, whose daughter did you corrupt?" she teased. 

"Big trouble," Vila told her. "Servalan."

"Servalan? That's ridiculous."

"We saw her, Soolin. Now come on." 

She didn't argue any more. Within a few minutes, Tarrant was taking the ship out of orbit. 

"The important question is," Soolin said, "did Servalan see you?"

"I don't think so," Vila replied. "Parade or no parade, she'd have been after her if she had. No, I don't think she has any idea we were there." 

"Why was _she_ there?" Tarrant asked. "Orac, why would Servalan be on Thracia?"

*That information is a matter of public record, and as such, is a--*

"Waste of your precious time, I know, but tell me anyway." They were all getting extremely tired of Orac's temper tantrums.

*If you insist,* the computer said irritably. *The Federation has sent a unit from Central Security, headed by Commissioner Sleer, to investigate allegations that Thracia has been harboring political criminals.*

"Why should they care?" Soolin asked. "It's a neutral planet, and it's not exactly one of the bright spots of the galaxy. So a few escapees hide out there. So what?"

*The Federation is interested in Thracia, which has unusually rich mineral deposits.*

"And they're out to protect their interests," Vila concluded. "We're never going to get away from Servalan, are we?"

"She didn't see us," Tarrant said. 

"This time, she didn't. But look at how unbelievable a coincidence it was that she was there at all. A few more of those unbelievable coincidences, and they'll be carving, 'The time, she saw us' on our tombstones."

Soolin shrugged. "Let me guess. You're about to propose that we run away."

"No."

A stunned silence settled over the flight deck. "No," he repeated. "I'm not going to spend the rest of my life running away from Servalan." 

Tarrant leaned toward Soolin. "I don't believe I've met your friend."

"Neither have I--and where's Vila?"

"Joke if you like," Vila said. "She didn't see us this time, true. But we're still alive, and we still have Orac. If she doesn't know that--and I do realize Central Records thinks we're dead, but this is Servalan we're talking about--she'll probably find out soon, by yet another 'unbelievable coincidence.' We know who she is. She'll be hunting us. If--when--she discovers Avon's dead, she may not be as single-minded about it, but she'll still be hunting us until the day we die."

"We've known that for a long time," Tarrant pointed out. 

"We can't live like that," Vila said. "That's what broke Avon--being on the run for so long gets to you, after a while. I'm not going to let that happen to me."

"I agree with Vila," said Soolin. "I'm tired of not knowing when the Federation is going to blast us out of space. We're not much of a threat now--a sneak thief, a pilot gone AWOL, and me--and the Federation didn't know or care who I was before I met up with you. Only Servalan cares about us. With her gone, we can hide."

"Maybe you're right," Tarrant said. He was silent for a moment. "Why not. It's something that should have been done a long time ago. So tell me, oh Fearless Leader, what are your plans?"

Vila winced at the sarcastic nickname, though Tarrant had no way of knowing that Avon had occasionally called Blake that. _I wish we'd done this years ago, Avon. I wish you'd been able to...but I know I can kill her. She killed...everyone, really. Gan. Cally. She hounded you past all reason, and that killed you, Blake, Dayna...almost me. I can't quite hate you for that, but I can hate her._

"We kill her," he said simply, and left the flight deck. _I kill her. One for Avon. For all of them._

***

"I need those clearance codes, Orac," Tarrant shouted as he wrestled with the guidance controls. "Those 'warning shots' are getting a little too close for comfort."

*Codes are being transmitted now.*

Within seconds, the attack on the ship had stopped. Vila and Soolin let go of the consoles they'd been clutching in an attempt to keep upright. "That was close," Soolin said. 

Vila was amazed at how calmly he was regarding the whole venture. It terrified him, when he thought about it carefully, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. Either it succeeded and Servalan would never trouble them again, or it failed--in which case _nothing_ would ever trouble them again. Either way, they wouldn't have Servalan after them any more. 

"Land about half a mile away from the base complex," he said, regarding the charts he'd gotten from Orac and printed out using the ship's computers. "There's a guard outpost there. We can get what we need before going any closer."

"Vila Restal, tactical expert," Soolin said. "I just can't get over it."

"Soolin, I have to do this," he said. "If you don't want to go along with me, don't. But don't make it any harder than it already is... please."

She put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Vila. This means a lot to you, doesn't it?"

He nodded. "I owe them that much."

"Just try not to get me killed in the process, all right?"

"You need someone who can shoot straight."

"Thanks, Soolin."

"Don't mention it." She smiled. "Really. I have a reputation to uphold."

"Hold on," Tarrant warned. "The stabilizers are acting up, and I'm not sure what sort of landing I can promise you." 

Vila and Soolin strapped them into the flight chairs this time. Despite Tarrant's dire predictions, the landing was reasonably smooth. Tarrant seemed quite disgusted with it, but then, neither of the others knew much about piloting a ship. 

"You stay here," Vila told him. "We may need to lift off rather quickly, so be ready. Don't decide to rebuild the drive unit, or anything."

"Now wait a minute," Tarrant said. "You're not proposing to go after Servalan?"

"And why not?"

"Apart from the fact that we usually have to drag you kicking and screaming off the ship, it'd be better if Soolin and I went. You're not much of a shot."

"Tell that to Avon," Vila muttered.

Soolin drew Tarrant aside for a moment. Vila didn't even try to overhear what they were saying. He could guess well enough. 

Shortly, Soolin returned, tossing Vila a fresh clip of ammunition. "Let's get moving."

They left the ship, which Tarrant had landed in a clearing in a wooded area. The outpost they were looking for was nearby, but not close enough that they would have taken much notice of the landing, since ships came and went all the time from the base. Flight Control might have noticed, but they trusted their computers, and Orac had fed the computers a false picture of normality. 

They worked out the details of their plan on the way. Vila would remain hidden while Soolin approached the guards. They figured she would have better luck at allaying their suspicions until it was too late. If Soolin could handle them alone, she would; if not, Vila would help her dispose of the guards. Vila had carefully avoided the word "kill," and Soolin hadn't brought it up. They both knew what they had to do. 

When they saw the guard station, a small prefab building on the side of the road, Vila moved off the road. He could use the trees as cover and then hide behind the building. Soolin continued up the road, making sure her gun was both accessible and out of sight. 

Vila got into place behind the outpost. Orac had detected no advanced scanning technology in use away from the base itself, but Vila stayed at a distance from the building; he didn't want to take any chances. He could still hear Soolin clearly through the teleport bracelets they had saved from _Scorpio_ ; they were still useful as communicators. 

"Can you help me?" she asked. "My ship had to make an emergency landing. I got separated from the others, and I'm lost...." Vila smiled to himself. She was putting on a very good helpless-female act. He hadn't thought Soolin would be capable of it. 

He heard a masculine chuckle. "Of course we can help you, sweetheart."

_Bad move, fellow_ , Vila thought. _She'll skin you alive for that one, given half a chance. And I intend to give her more than half a chance._

Soolin went inside the guard post. There was a little unimportant talk, while the guards tried to impress "Leanni," and then Soolin said, "You mean there are just the three of you? What if something happened?"

"Nothing's going to happen," said the first trooper. "Nothing ever happens. The entire base complex is just office space for Central Security. It's nothing exciting."

"Still, they must think very highly of you, to put you in charge of keeping the base secure," she said. 

Three of them. Vila had hoped for two. They could have handled two much more easily. 

Soolin chattered for a while longer--Vila realized that she was copying the way he babbled to keep himself distracted, and wasn't sure if he should be flattered or insulted--and then let out a cry of fright. "What was that sound?" 

"Sound? I didn't hear anything," one of her escorts said.

"There was something outside. Back behind the building, I think."

Good thinking, Vila thought. If he took care of one of them before they knew what was happening, they'd be evenly matched once the guards realized he was there. 

"There's nothing out there, Leanni."

"I'm sure there is." She was silent for a moment. "Will you please go and check?" she asked.

"Me?" another trooper asked.

"Yes. Please? I'd be very grateful," she added, in a suggestive tone.

"All right, but I'm sure there's nothing out there."

_That's where you're wrong, friend._ Vila waited until he saw the trooper round the corner of the building. He had to do this, he told himself firmly. They had to get into that base. Besides, after killing one of his own crew, killing an enemy ought not to be that difficult. 

He couldn't quite believe it, but he forced himself to fire anyway. The trooper fell before he knew what had happened. "Sorry," Vila said to the body. 

Vila realized how Soolin had selected her knight in shining armor. He was close in height and build to Vila; his uniform would fit fairly well. Vila stripped the corpse quickly and put on the uniform, including the opaque helmet the guard had been carrying. He'd have to get inside the building before the others realized the soldier was dead.

Every instinct was telling him to give it up and run, but Vila entered the guardhouse. "Did you find anything?" Soolin asked. 

"Nothing I couldn't handle," he said. 

"That's not Dorn," realized one of the remaining troopers. 

Vila's shot was only a second or so behind Soolin's. Both of the Federation troopers fell to the floor. 

With a few minutes, Soolin was wearing a uniform as well. "I'm glad that's over," she said. "I was starting to make myself sick."

"How come you never act like that around us?" he asked, pushing up his visor and grinning at her. 

"Don't push your luck, Vila," she said. "Now let's go."

They passed the base checkpoint without incident: the ID papers in the pockets of their stolen uniforms were examined and returned without question. "Commissioner Sleer" obviously didn't spend much time in her office on this base, since security was relatively lax. Then again, Vila wondered who'd want to attack an office complex. There were no interrogators to kill, no prisoners to liberate, just a lot of mid-level bureaucrats and a few higher-ups who needed a base of operations in this sector, like the Commissioner herself. Most of the rebel groups--other than Blake, and maybe Avalon's people--that Vila had seen wouldn't have thought of such a prosaic target, however strategic. 

Once they were well inside, Vila removed his helmet, relying on the anonymity of the uniform--who'd expect Vila Restal to be wearing a trooper's uniform?--and stopped a harried-looking middle-aged woman. "Excuse me," he said politely. "We've got orders to report to Commissioner Sleer's office, and we don't know where that is." 

"Sleer? Go to the fifth floor, and turn right when you come out of the lift. It'll be on your left; it's the... eighth door? Seventh? Something like that. Her name's on it, though, so you can't miss it." 

"Thank you."

"If you're going to see Sleer, you need all the help you can get. She's in a foul mood today; my husband works on that floor, and he says she's just had half her staff hauled off for court-martial."

Meaning there wouldn't be a lot of people around. This just might be their lucky day. "Thanks a lot," he said. 

Vila and Soolin followed the directions she'd given them. "This is too easy," Soolin whispered. 

Vila nodded. "I'm expecting to be caught any minute."

Somehow, miraculously, their luck held. Maybe Avon had brought them bad luck, Vila thought, and then dismissed the idea as silly. It was just the law of averages. He'd had terrible luck for the past five years; he was due for something better. Now if it just held out for ten more minutes.

He put his helmet back on and entered Servalan's office. The outer office was empty; Vila opened the door to the inner office and stepped inside. Servalan looked up. "What are you doing here?" she demanded. "Get back to your posts immediately."

Soolin closed the door behind them. "I don't think so," she said. 

"Hello, Servalan, glad to see us?" asked Vila, removing the helmet again. "No, don't go for your weapon. Soolin's very quick with her gun, you know."

"Vila. I might have guessed. Where's Avon?" she asked. "I'd think he'd want to be present for my execution--it is to be an execution?"

"Avon's dead."

"You see how useless it is to run from me," she said. "The Federation will find you in the end."

"Very inspiring. Except the Federation didn't kill Avon," Vila said. "I did."

"You?"

"It's a long story, and you don't have the time."

"You couldn't kill me, Vila," Servalan said. "Avon might have, but you? You're a coward. You're no threat."

"But I am," Soolin reminded her. "And I wouldn't underestimate Vila if I were you. He might surprise you."

"You're right, Servalan," Vila said, keeping his gun on her the entire time. "I'm a coward. That means I want to survive.

"You and Travis hunted Blake until you twisted his mind. He ended up obsessed, nothing like the leader he'd once been. You hunted Avon until you twisted him too. You warped him until there was no way he could stay alive. 

"Me? I'm a coward. I want to live, and not like that. It seems as though killing you is my only option." _Steady, now, Vila._ "Besides, I owe Avon this much." What had Cally said? "Companions for his death." For Avon's, for Cally's, for so many others. 

Servalan's eyes widened in surprise as Vila's finger tightened on the trigger. The impact of the shot rolled her desk-chair backward, though the blast had been virtually silent, thanks to some of Soolin's modifications to their guns. Servalan herself collapsed. 

Soolin was immediately at the side, checking that she didn't have to finish the job. "Congratulations, Vila. She's dead."

Vila turned away and was violently sick. 

***

"I'll be damned," Tarrant said. He'd said it about twenty times since Vila and Soolin had returned to the ship. They were now out in neutral space, listening to the Federation communications channels. Orac had transmitted information about the murdered Commissioner's true identity, and Central Security, Space Command, and the High Council were all in an uproar. "I never thought you had it in you, Vila." 

Vila was still pale and trembling. "I don't have much in me right now, Tarrant. You can look at this as a big adventure if you want to, but it still turns my stomach."

"Then I wont' tell you what I've been thinking about," Tarrant said. 

"No, tell me. I want to be able to object as loudly as possible."

"Right now, all the higher-ups in the Federation are trying to find reasons to impeach or execute all the other higher-ups. Servalan was supposed to have been killed. That was no 'accident' that supposedly killed her on Gedden. Now there are a lot of questions, and nobody wants to get caught asking them, or to let anyone think they might have the answers."

"Who cares? It doesn't matter who's in charge. The Federation's still the Federation."

"This would be an ideal time to attempt a takeover," Tarrant said.

"Tarrant, I thought the whole reason why we got rid of Servalan was so that we didn’t' have to fight any longer. Now you want us to go looking for a fight?" Vila said. All he wanted was to find somewhere safe to hide, and then to drink until he didn't have a brain cell left. At least then he wouldn't be able to remember anything. 

"The Federation creates people like Servalan, Vila. Someone will just step into her shoes. Is that what you want?"

"I want to be left alone." 

"You can't blame Servalan for everything," Tarrant argued. "The Federation has to be destroyed."

"You sound like Blake," Vila grumbled.

"I've been giving it a lot of thought," Tarrant said. "I think Blake was right."

"And I think I don't care. Let's not press our luck."

Soolin looked at both of them. "Vila, I think we should listen to Tarrant."

"I thought you agreed with me."

"About getting rid of Servalan, yes. But I don't think we can stop there."

"Why not?"

"I've had Orac do some checking. Servalan wasn't behind what happened on Gauda Prime. Arlen, that Federation spy, set that all up herself."

"She's dead, too."

"But there'll be others. And the Federation was corrupt long before Servalan took power."

Vila saw a shadow cross her face and realized she was thinking of her family. When the Federation made Gauda Prime an open planet, Soolin's parents had been killed. Her life had been driven by that for years. 

Even in the Delta sector of the dome, he'd had a childhood. It hadn't been great, but he hadn't spent it alone in the world, consumed by grief and bloodlust. The Federation had done that to an eight-year-old girl. 

They'd done more, he knew, remembering details of how Blake had been sent to Cygnus Alpha. There were three kids growing up with that in their memories, just so Roj Blake could be discredited. Vila had no rosy picture of childhood, but enough terrible things happened without planting others in children's brains. Somewhere, Vila felt the stirrings of outrage. 

"All right, Tarrant. What do you want to do?"

Tarrant grinned as though he'd known Vila would agree. "This ship isn't exactly up to a battle. I thought we'd find one of the resistance groups, throw in our lot with them." 

"Avalon," Vila said after a moment's thought. "She'll take us in, no problem."

"Avalon Kharis?" Tarrant asked. "You know her? She's practically a legend."

"So was Blake," Vila reminded him. Actually, Jenna had been the one who'd known Avalon, but it didn't really matter. Avalon would take them in. And from what he'd heard, her organization was big enough that he could find something to do that wouldn't involve having to kill people. He'd killed enough people. All that time on _Liberator,_ at the weapons console--he'd never thought about it, but how many people had he killed then? And none of them had mattered to him at the time. But Avon, Servalan, he'd seen them die. He'd known them, and he'd killed them. And he hated himself for it.

"Then we're agreed?" Tarrant asked. 

The three of them locked gazes: Tarrant, still full of optimism and determination, despite everything; Soolin, old beyond her time; and himself...just so tired of it all. 

"Agreed," said Soolin.

"Get on with it," said Vila. 

***

"What do you mean, they'll only talk to Vila?" Tarrant spluttered a few days later. 

"Just that," Soolin said. "Avalon said he's the only one she'd recognize, so he's the only one she wants to talk to. If she accepts that he's no threat, she'll let him vouch for us."

"And if she doesn’t?"

"I imagine they'll kill us." She laughed. "How likely is that, Tarrant? Vila's about as non-threatening as I can imagine."

"He killed Servalan."

"He's still not _dangerous,_ " she argued. 

Vila, listening in the corridor, suddenly decided to start making a lot of noise. By the time he reached the flight deck, Tarrant and Soolin were talking about something quite inconsequential.

"So, have you made contact with Avalon yet?" he asked. 

"More or less," Soolin said. "Avalon wants to talk to you before she'll trust us."

"Why?"

"She knows you," she said. 

There was nothing to be done about it. Avalon had decided he was in charge of these two infants, so he was in charge. Never mind that he'd only botch it up. Never mind that he didn't want to be in charge. No one cared what he wanted; some things really didn't ever change. "All right. Land the ship, Tarrant."

"They're sending up a shuttle. They don't even want Soolin and me on the planet until they're sure of you."

"Fine. The way you land, I'm better off what way, anyway. When's the shuttle going to be here?"

"In about a quarter of an hour."

"Let me know when it gets here. I'll be in my cabin." He left again. He'd been avoiding the others as much as possible lately. Now that they were determined to keep on fighting the Federation, it was only a matter of time before they both died. Since Avon's death, the three of them had become closer; he'd even admitted to himself that he liked Tarrant. He didn't want to get any closer than that; it'd hurt too much when the Federation killed them too. 

Avon might have been right about one thing. If you didn't care, it didn't hurt. And it hurt so much now, he didn't think he could bear any more. 

A few minutes later, Soolin came and got him; the shuttle had arrived. Vila was grateful to be away from Tarrant and Soolin, if only for a short while. They were too strong a reminder of what he'd lost, and what he stood to lose again. 

The trip down to the planet Avalon was using as a base was uneventful; the pilot and co-pilot were too suspicious of him to want to talk. Fortunately, it was also a short trip, and before Vila had time to get completely bored, they had landed. 

Avalon looked much the same as he remembered her; the past few years hadn't aged her as much as they had him. "You really are welcome here, Vila," Avalon said, "but you understand our need for...paranoia?"

"of course. Some of my best friends are paranoid. Well...they were, anyway."

She drew him away from the crew of the shuttle. "Come to my quarters and talk, Vila. We have a lot to discuss before we decide if there's a place for you and your friends here."

Avalon led him to what appeared to be a private conference room. Once he was seated, she fixed him with a forbidding look. "What happened to Blake and the others?"

"Dead. They're all dead but the three of us."

"Then the rumors are true." She paused. "Did Avon really kill Blake?"

"That's right."

"Why?"

There was no way Avalon could have known how many times Vila had wondered that himself. Why had any of it had to happen? What purpose could it have served? "Avon went mad, or close enough to it," he said flatly. 

"Did he." Avalon was a small woman; she didn't seem particularly threatening to look at, but the steel Vila heard in her voice would have given Travis pause. "And where is Avon now?"

_Where you can't get to him_. The protectiveness in that thought unnerved Vila. Avon didn't need to be protected--he never had, and less so now. And he certainly would never have returned the favor. "Dead. As I said, he killed Blake. He was trying to kill Tarrant--you haven't met him, he joined us after the war--so I shot him," he finished in a near-mumble. 

"You, Vila? I thought you didn't care for violence."

"I didn't. Still don't. I had to, don't you see? I had no choice!"

"I understand, Vila. Avon was a dangerous man, even when I knew him. And if you're correct, and he had become unstable, there wasn't much else you could have done. It isn't as though you could have taken him somewhere for treatment."

"He was unstable, all right," Vila said. "She hounded us until it's a wonder we weren't all just as bad off as he was."

"She?"

"Servalan. That's why I had to..." He shrugged. "I shot her, too," he confessed. 

Avalon's jaw dropped perceptibly. "You killed Servalan as well? It seems we have a hero in our midst."

"No hero. Just tired. Look, Avalon, you spent some time on _Liberator_ ; you know what I'm like. Can you imagine I enjoy this?"

She turned away. "No, I don't suppose you do. But then why join me, Vila?"

"The others. They think we should."

"What do you think?" 

"I think we have to. But I don't want to fight," he added. "Isn't there something I can do that won't involve guns?"

"Of course. I could use help with base security. Not guard duty," she said when he opened his mouth to protest, "but improving and maintaining our security systems. Will that do?"

Would that do? That was probably the only somewhat legal job Vila could enjoy in the slightest: trying to design a security system that could keep him out. "And the others?"

"If you say they can be trusted, we'll try trusting them," Avalon said. "At least until they give us reason not to."

An end to running. Isn't that was what they'd wanted, most of them? He only wished some of the others had been there to share it. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome, Vila. Very welcome."

And they went to tell Tarrant to land the ship. 

***

Vila was waiting in Flight Control for Tarrant and Soolin to come home. They had gone to Earth to bring back a defecting scientist and his family. This particular scientist was an expert in mutoid modification; Avalon was hoping that he could help out in one of the projects she had going, an attempt to reverse at least the memory-blocks the Federation gave mutoids. Who would hate the Federation more than a former mutoid? At least, that was how her reasoning went. 

Vila didn't really care. All he wanted to know was that his two former crewmates made it back to base alive. He had found himself worrying about them so much that he'd kept his distance from the rest of Avalon's people, talking only to Avalon, and that only when he had to. That way, he wouldn't feel the same panic whenever anyone else was late returning from a mission. 

"The ship's here," announced one of the flight controllers. "Switching on landing bay monitors."

On one of the screens set into the wall, the image of Tarrant's ship flickered into view. Soolin was already in the landing bay, helping a woman and several small children--no, only two, but they were moving around so much they looked like a dozen--out of the ship. 

When Tarrant appeared on the monitor, Vila released a breath he hadn't known he was holding. They'd both made it back all right--this time. He sat down to wait for them to show up. 

It was about half an hour before they made it to Flight Control, where they had known he would be waiting. "Glad we're back?" Tarrant asked. 

"Not likely," Vila grumbled. "There goes my peace and quiet."

"Admit it, you missed us," said Soolin. 

"Did you miss me?"

"Every minute," she said solemnly, before grinning at him. "Come on, Vila, I'm sure you have a bottle squirreled away with our names on it."

"Have you ever known me not to?" 

The three went back to their quarters. Most of the living space on the base was arranged in apartments, and the remnants of the _Scorpio_ crew had taken one over. There were three small bedrooms, a common living area, and a tiny kitchen that they rarely used. It was easier to eat with Avalon's people in the communal dining area. 

Vila rummaged in one of the kitchen cupboards until he found a bottle of wine and three glasses. He opened the bottle and let it breathe while Tarrant and Soolin retreated to their rooms to clean up and change clothes. After a few minutes of waiting, Vila sat down at the table to go back over the diagrams of an alarm system he was setting up for Avalon. 

He didn't hear Soolin come in. "Hard at work? You?"

"This isn't really work," he said. "More like officially-sanctioned playing."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "Are you sleeping in between this 'play'?"

"Hm?" He picked up the tray of glasses and carried it into the living area. "Have a drink, Soolin."

She took the proffered glass, but didn't let the matter rest. "You look terrible, Vila. Have you been sleeping?"

"Of course I've been sleeping." He had; just not much. He tried to, but he didn't like the dreams it gave him. He'd rather die of exhaustion than fright, he'd decided. 

"I've never seen you so absorbed in work, either."

"I told you, it's not really work."

"And I don't believe you. Those are very thorough schematics. I doubt I saw you do that much work in the entire time I knew you before we came here."

"Avalon asked me to."

"We used to ask you to do things, too, but that didn't mean you did."

"She asks nicer than Avon." But Vila did what Avalon asked for the same reason he'd done what Avon wanted: he wanted to stay alive. With the improvements to the security system, he could feel safer. And he had to do it right. There was no room for a stupid Delta mistake. There was no Avon or Blake to bail him out this time; Avalon was depending on him. 

"What's really bothering you, Vila? Do you want Tarrant and me to stay around more?" she asked as though realizing for the first time that their absences might have worried Vila. 

"Of course not. I have things to do. I don't want to spend my time talking to you two."

"You sound like Avon," Soolin said. Her tone was light, almost teasing, but she was frowning. 

Vila shuddered. Did he? He supposed he might, at that. Avon had been right, after all. He'd taken it to extremes, but he'd been right, all the same. The important thing was to find a bolt-hole and lock the door after you. "I hadn't noticed," he said at last.

"I had," Tarrant said from the doorway. "Take a break, Vila. On the way back, Soolin and I were talking about the fact that we never did get that holiday we'd wanted, and that was eight months ago now. We were looking into some possibilities."

"I have to finish this alarm system first," Vila said. Was that really him saying that? Avalon was counting on him, though. He hated being counted on. He just wanted to be left alone. 

Tarrant and Soolin exchanged worried glances, but said nothing. _They think I'm cracking up,_ Vila realized. Maybe they were right. He wasn't cut out for responsibility, any more than Avon had been cut out for leadership. Maybe he was going down the same route Avon had. 

No, not yet. He was just tired, and worried. He didn't know how to keep his friends safe, or himself safe, except by fighting. And he was sick to death of fighting. He was no good at it, anyway. 

He looked up at Soolin, about to say something, but he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall behind her. His face had gained a new crop of lines in the past few months, etched around the eyes and mouth. He looked like he'd aged ten years. 

But it was his eyes that gave Vila pause. He'd never given his eyes much thought; they were brown, and they worked fine, and nothing else seemed important. Various bed-partners had described them in more or less flattering terms, usually implying that they gave away the fact that he was plotting some sort of highly enjoyable mischief. 

They didn't look like that now. They were guarded, wary; he could see the worry and pain trying to surface in them, despite his efforts to clamp down on it. 

Was that what happened to Avon, he wondered--waking up one morning and finding a stranger in the mirror? Was that what trying to keep people alive did to you?

He thought he'd killed Avon. He never thought he'd been in any danger of _becoming_ him.

When Soolin asked him what he was smiling about--a bitter smile that she should have recognized--he ignored the question. Leaving his glass of wine untouched, Vila went back to his alarm schematics. 

Like it or not, he had people to protect.

**Author's Note:**

> [me on tumblr](https://mireille719.tumblr.com)


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